


Back in the Land of the Living

by mayamaia



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: Desert, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-04-21
Packaged: 2018-01-20 05:08:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1497769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mayamaia/pseuds/mayamaia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Easter Eggs 2014.  The prompt was: "I love the Easter Eggs... I would like a gen story set in a desert... any desert will do as long as there is also a donkey. :D" - glennagirl</p>
            </blockquote>





	Back in the Land of the Living

The heat was not intense, though the sun was high. The air was so dry that it had no scent but dust, and nearly still. Dust coated everything and even the ass had stopped complaining under its burden, unwilling to open its jaws and allow it to collect there. It was all Illya could do to keep his eyes open to the brown haze, mud collecting at their corners as he blinked away the silt.

He reached out to straighten the bulk across the donkey's back, checking his compass more to remind himself there was a world outside the dry plain than out of any fear that he might not reach it. He had a can of water large enough for days, and the road should be only a few hours off.

Scrubby bushes, soft earth. The rains were long behind the wind in scouring the soil, so its cracks were softened at the edges, drifted with dust.

A moan, loud under the dead sky. Illya looked to the beast's burden: his partner's head had flopped back, but Napoleon had not really awakened, not yet. He moved to the donkey's side, adjusted Napoleon's seat, never entirely stopping.

 _Soon enough, he'll be back among the living._ Illya smiled to himself at the thought. _Though you couldn't prove it by me._

He looked around. The haze hid the horizon, the dust dulled every color. The stillness, the passage of time.

One step after another. Illya tugged needlessly at the donkey's halter, producing a hoarse sound of annoyance. One living thing, at least. He hoped the sedative wore off soon, so those complaints could be joined by others in a human voice.

Illya tried not to think of how long "soon" might be.

As if an answer to his wish, a voice rose beside him. "When I promised to ride the ass of anyone who got in the way of this mission," Solo was mumbling, "This isn't what I had in mind."

All Illya could do was smile and shake his head. The horizon seemed closer already.


End file.
